Ghost
by Keiko Yuki
Summary: HD Slash It has been eight years since both the defeat of Lord Voldemort and the death of Harry Potter. Though his friends and family have accepted this loss and moved on, Draco sees something that makes him think differently. Could Harry Potter still be
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I do not claim to own or have created Harry Potter. The story is mine, charas are not. Got it? Okay.

_Chaptire 1_

**_Death is an unavoidable occurrence_**

**_Without death, there would be nothing to hope for in life_**

**_Darkness is embraced by many_**

**_It is a well-played game_**

**_But there are those who do not play,_**

**_Who __can not_**

**_Who __will not_**

**_This story is about one such person_**

**_Who could not face Death_**

**_Because Death cheated in their little game_**

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"Professor Malfoy?" The girl's tentative voice woke the man from his unscheduled nap as abruptly as if she'd smacked him across the back of his head.

He blinked blearily at the child in front of him and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He suppressed a groan of annoyance when he realized just who had woken him up. The slight girl straightened her shoulders, as if to draw strength from this action, and reached into her pocket, from which she pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He raised a questioning eyebrow and took the paper from her with open hesitation.

She shrugged in response. "Mum told me to give it to you," she said.

Both eyebrows shot up as this new information turned through his head. He really had too much to think about as it was, without the offspring of another Weasel handing him notes from mummy and daddy. "Thank you Analissa. That will be all." He glanced at her through the fringe of his blonde hair, "unless there was something about the class you needed help with?"

The look she gave him was clearly adapted from her mother's example, Draco told himself in contained exasperation. That know-it-all Granger had married Ronald Weasley and thus created a rather impressive clone of herself at the start of the war. The girl had managed to escape the inheritance of the infamous red hair, but she had (unfortunately enough) inherited several of her father's distinctive features.

She stood taller than most of her peers, though only slightly (she was a first year). She had a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose that added to her distinctive heritage. She did have her mother's hair, though not quite as bushy, yet, and she had her father's blue eyes. Analissa was brilliant (annoyingly so) but she was, at least, a bit more humble than Draco recalled Granger being in their school days.

"I'm doing alright in potions now, aren't I Professor?" Her voice held little worry, though in her eyes he could tell that she was genuinely curious.

He felt the sudden urge to tell her that she'd received a failing grade on the last assignment he'd collected, just to see what her reaction would be. If she was anything like Granger, she'd probably flee the dungeons in tears. He bit back the lie quickly and nodded his head toward the girl. "You're doing quite well, Miss Weasley."

She smiled and let out a small sigh of relief (not that she'd had anything to worry about in the first place) and nodded before turning to leave the room. When her brown hair was out of sight and he no longer felt her magical signature he waved a hand to close and lock his classroom door. He unfolded the piece of parchment to be greeted by a blank page. He tapped the parchment with his wand once and ink spilled from the center and arranged itself into the handwriting of Hermione Granger-Weasley.

_Draco,_

_I hope that you are in good health when you receive this letter. Annie is quite forgetful so I am sure that this letter will reach you after she's had it in her possession for a week._

Draco raised an eyebrow to himself at the unnecessary information but continued to read the letter in silence.

_Ron and I have been working on a book, a sort of memoir for those involved in the battle. We have both been jotting down notes on events that happened and we wondered if you would like to mention anything that you'd like to see in the book._

_I also wanted to extend my deepest gratitude to you once more. You really did help us a lot during the war. We realize that more than ever now that we live in peace. I know it may seem hard to believe, but in those three long years, Harry had grown quite fond of you. He had wanted us to become friends instead of staying enemies. I only wish he would have had the chance to see how different things are and to enjoy the world without fear and suspicion._

_We'll be visiting on the next Hogsmede weekend. We thought you would like to have brunch with us. It would be nice to talk to you again. It's been such a long time since we've spoken._

_I also thought it'd be nice to visit Harry as well. Owl us with your answer when you have the time, okay?_

_If there is anything you need, you've only to ask._

_Yours truly,_

_Hermione W._

_P.S. Annie wouldn't have been able to read this letter, so you know._

Draco put the letter down on the table. He hadn't thought about Potter or the war in years. The eighth year since the death of the Dark Lord would be celebrated within the next month, a constant reminder of what he'd hoped to forget. Thinking about the war still held painful memories. He'd lost almost everything and everyone in the war and he had a habit of secluding himself to drink himself into a stupor during the annual celebrations.

The fact that Granger and Weasley were writing a book was a surprise. As a matter of fact, the knowledge that Weasley could string words together in a comprehensible sentence was just as (if not more) shocking. He allowed himself to laugh at the thought of Ronald Weasley pouring his soul into writing a single sentence.

Turning his thoughts back toward the letter, Draco battled with himself over sending a reply. Should he take her up on her offer? Would it be wise to go with the Weasleys to visit Potter's grave? In the end he shook his head, folded the letter and tossed it into the fire. He tried not to let the hissing sound of the burning letter bother him too much. He was a busy man, and couldn't be bothered with such trivialities. He had rounds to make after dinner, and he still had papers to grade, after all.

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Draco sighed heavily as he sat down on one of the plush chairs in the library. It was nighttime and well past the students' curfew. The castle was quiet, the only sound being the merry crackling of the fire. With a wave of his wand, the papers he still needed to grade appeared from the doorway to stack themselves into piles according to class and house.

All he had to look forward to was hours and hours of work. He sometimes found himself wishing he hadn't taken Severus' offer to become Potions master at Hogwarts, let alone becoming Slytherin's head of house. The little devils were definitely worse than when he'd been a teenager. It had taken him three hours to fix his students' faces after one of the third years 'accidentally' hexed the living daylights out of everyone in the common room. Though that student was probably with Filch right now, he thought with satisfaction, probably hanging by the ankles somewhere. The twisted Squib had always been itching to do something like that.

Gathering himself together so as to focus on his task he sighed to himself. He began the monotonous task of reading through dinner-stained, ink-smeared parchment. Three sentences into the paper (which was about the wolfsbane potion) he was distracted by the sound of footsteps. Immediately, Draco opened his senses to pick up the intruder's footfalls. His wand was twirling in his hand calmly as he waited for the sound to get louder. He put the parchment down and stood slowly from his seat.

Silver eyes scanned the empty library slowly as he looked for a stray student out of bed (which was usually the case). Probably going off to meet their lover, he thought to himself sardonically as he imagined one of his students scampering down the hall. If it was one of his (Dimitri, he would bet) he would leave them alone. Of course, some favoritism was involved in his punishments, but Draco was far too tired to deal with interrogations. Honestly, his student's were having more sex than he did. And that pissed him off to no end.

He waved his wand, silently casting a spell to track magical signatures. This spell allowed for Draco to see the magic radiating off of a person or their wand. With students their wands usually showed a smoky blue while the person themselves would show little magical signature. There were some exceptions to this, Analissa Weasley being one of the few whose magical signatures were mature for their age and radiated with a healthy gold color.

There was no trace of magic in anything other than the books and fireplaces. Even the signature of the young boy he'd been expecting to catch was not present. He found the lack of a magical signature disturbing, seeing as the footsteps had become louder and he could feel a presence in the room. _Odd_, he thought to himself and moved forward to inspect the rest of his surroundings.

As he stepped behind a bookcase, all of the fires went out. He jumped slightly as he was plummeted into total darkness. He flicked his wand, producing a small light. He turned toward the fireplace and tried to relight it. The flame went out with a puff of black smoke before it had even reached the fireplace. He tried again, his heart beating wildly at every failure. He gave up just as he heard a clatter of books falling behind him. Draco turned suddenly, his wand ahead of him, only to come face to face with none other than Harry Potter.

He fell backwards in his haste to get away from the figure in front of him. He shouted as he fell, the shock evident in his face. His eyes were wide and glassy, his hand on his heart as it beat wildly in his chest. He watched in horror as Potter knelt down to touch his face only to disappear from his sight. Draco gasped softly and looked wildly around him, willing his heart to slow down and gain control of his breathing.

The sound of scratching on the floor startled him. The scratching became louder until the dark form of Mrs. Norris appeared in his field of vision, followed closely by Argus Filch. The grim and dirty face of the old Squib (previously alight with glee at the prospect of catching a student out of bed) held worry as his eyes moved toward Draco's position on the floor. Cursing his momentary insanity, he picked himself off of the floor with his trademark Malfoy grace. He waved off Filch's rambling and questions with an impatient hand. He tuned out the man's voice as he looked around him suspiciously.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and fixed a cold gaze toward the man. In a satisfactory response (in Draco's opinion) the man flinched and moved his hand away with the speed of a man being burned with a flame. Draco pointedly dusted off his shoulder and ignored the man as completely as he had been doing since Filch's arrival. "I'm going to my rooms," he announced as if to no one in particular. With a flick of his wand, the papers were once again stacked up and flying toward his room.

For the first time since his entrance into the library, Draco acknowledged the Squib's presence. He fixed Filch with a glare, "you will not speak of this to anyone. Understand?" He hid a smirk at the obvious fear in the man's eyes. He brushed rudely past the quaking man and his cat and walked straight to the dungeons, following the path his work had taken.

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	2. Chapter 2

Diclaimer: See first chapter

_Chaptire 2_

Two nights later found Draco Malfoy in the library once again. He hadn't told anyone about the 'incident' (if he could call it that) and he'd made certain that Filch's mouth stayed closed. He'd managed to send Granger a note apologizing, saying that he could not attend, and that if he had any input for the book, he would write something and send it via owl post. He wasn't sure if he would actually pull through with that, but he told her that to mollify her.

His eyes scanned the room as he cast security and detective spells. He wanted to make sure that what he was seeing wasn't a prank by one of the students. He had half a mind to believe that what had happened had only been a creation of his sleep-deprived mind. He wasn't too keen on the idea of admitting insanity, but he was ready to admit that, maybe, he'd been suffering from some symptom of mal-nourishment or insomnia.

Severus had been the one to point out (rather bluntly) that Draco looked like an underfed stray dog. Draco had had no choice but to swallow the insult and move on with his unsatisfactory life. He'd lost his appetite after the first encounter at the library and was too busy with all of his Head of House duties and his Potions classes. Looking in a mirror standing on a desk, he sighed as he surveyed his face.

He was paler than usual. Whereas before he'd had a healthy tinge of red in his cheeks and ears, he now had no pigment whatsoever. He had bags under his eyes and the corners of his mouth were drawn down into an almost permanent frown. His frown deepened as he prodded at the dark circles under his eyes with a long, slender digit. He felt miserable and he couldn't understand just why he'd started to feel this way now, of all times.

It was a good thing Winter Break was only three days away.

He didn't spend them with anyone, of course, since his mother was dead and Severus spent his holidays away from the school. He was, at least, able to sleep without having to watch any students. Draco wondered where it was that Severus went during his holidays. He then began contemplating on the possibility that Severus might have a lover. His mouth quirked with suppressed laughter at that thought. He couldn't imagine Severus rushing home to his lover and saying romantic nothings as she gushed on how much she missed him.

Draco's train of thought was abruptly halted as the flutter of papers falling reached his ears. His head shot up from where he was still looking at his reflection in the mirror. He was hesitant to find the origin of the noise, but his curiosity was slowly getting the better of him. Before he could completely ignore his temptation, he headed quietly toward the restricted section of the library.

There, he found papers settling from their frantic pace onto the stone floor.

At first glance, it seemed to Draco as if the papers had been arranged in a random pattern with a meaning only one with a code would be able to decipher. As he neared it though, he found that the papers were still shifting, as if some invisible hand were still rearranging them. Draco crouched down and reached toward one of the papers.

It looked to be ordinary parchment but he did not know if the papers were some sort of trap or held a curse. So, deciding to proceed with more caution, Draco pulled out his wand and waved it over the parchment nearest to him. Silently casting the revealing spell, he waited with baited breath as ink poured through the center of a page. However, he was slightly disappointed when the ink sat in a lifeless puddle in the middle of the paper.

This paper was easily identified as a Weasley product: self-inking paper (apparently better than self-inking quills). It was a favorite with his students, who were, apparently, too lazy to dip their quills into their ink well every few seconds. The only use the revealing spell had been was to tell him that there was a forgetful student begging for Argus Filch to hang him by the ankles.

Draco stood up and watched the papers continue moving. From what he could discern, the papers weren't being moved by any type of spell. Plus, the papers seemed as if they were being _placed_ in the pattern by someone. And so, with skilled eyes, Draco watched the movement of the paper so that he may find the person responsible.

He suspected a student with an Invisibility Cloak, even though they were extremely rare. He kept a watchful eye out for the tiniest shimmer of the cloak slipping off the person beneath it. It had to be a student, he thought. No one else could get into Hogwarts and the teachers wouldn't be doing this to him. Or would they?

Draco panicked as he heard the sound of a book falling to the ground. He turned toward the sound with lightning speed and put up a shield. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the surprised face of Analissa Weasley.

"P-Professor?" She stuttered in a frightened voice. Her eyes were wide with surprise and her mouth was slightly open.

Draco sighed as he dropped his shield and tucked his wand into his belt. He moved toward the young girl and fixed a glare on her small, quivering frame. She looked scared but it didn't seem as if she were afraid of the teacher glaring down at her. Draco took another step closer, confused as to whether he should comfort the girl or reprimand her for not being in her dormitory after hours. His eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated what to do. He didn't want the girl to see whatever message had been left or come into contact with whoever had been sending it.

Unless…

His eyebrows shot up then down again as he regarded the small girl with a newfound suspicion. "What exactly, Miss Weasley, are you doing in the library after hours?"

The girl's expression never changed, but her eyes flickered so that they seemed to be going in and out of focus. First, she'd seem to be looking at him with fright, then she'd seem to be looking right through him at something (or someone) else.

"Miss Weasley?" He questioned when, after a long period of silence, the girl did not respond or move.

"Professor-" Draco's suspicion faltered somewhat as he noticed the significant change in the girl's voice. It seemed deeper, slower, and more mature. He'd only seen something like this happening once in his lifetime. He wracked his brain for any way he could possibly help.

He took a step backward from the unmoving witch, wondering whether or not it was safe to approach her in her current state. He continued to stare on as the girl's eyes repeated their dance from reality to somewhere else. Draco couldn't even begin to understand what was going on.

"Malfoy, you ponce." The girl said in that deep voice.

Draco's eyes widened with anger and astonishment. Even if she were in an odd trance he didn't know the nature of, she was still a student - _his_ student - and, as such, could not address him in such an insulting manner. He was about to let her know this when the papers began to flutter behind him wildly.

Turning his attention away from his student, he watched as, finally, words began to appear. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to reaffirm what he thought he saw being spelled. The phrase confused him. What did that mean? Who was responsible for this? He turned back to his pupil, only to see her crumpled on the floor.

"Analissa?" He shook her shoulder as he kneeled on the floor next to her unresponsive form. "Miss Weasley! Wake up!" Almost immediately after having said this, he collapsed next to the girl.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He awoke in a place that didn't resemble Hogwarts in the slightest. He groaned and rubbed his hands against his eyes. While standing up slowly, he assessed the situation. Analissa was nowhere to be found and the more he looked around himself, the more he realized he'd been in this place before.

_I'm here._

The message was floating through his mind. His suspicions of Analissa having something to do with the mysterious occurrences began to fade more and more every second. He focused on his surroundings instead of eerie messages and unexplained phenomena. Water dripped from the stone ceiling and a cold draft fluttered his wet robes.

"Where am I?" He murmured, trying to find the answer to his questions.

"_Here_," a voice answered, echoing through the stone tunnel.

"Who are you!" Draco shouted, whirling around as his voice bounced around him and down the torch-lit tunnel.

"_You remember,_" the voice mocked in a way that reminded him of moaning Myrtle.

Memories flashed through Draco's mind of their own accord. It was as if the person belonging to the voice was manipulating his mind. Flashes from the war appeared in his mind's eye. All of a sudden, Draco felt nauseous. He bent over and leaned against the wall, steadying himself with one shaky hand. He dry heaved, clutching his stomach and closing his eyes tightly.

"_You remember_," the voice repeated.

Eyes widening, Draco stumbled away from the wall and moved downward toward the never-ending passage. "Potter," he gasped.

Laughter echoed all around him, assaulting his ears and making him dizzy. His stomach was still roiling, and his mouth tasted foul with the bile that had risen up.

"_Stop fighting, Draco_."

"You're dead, Potter!" Draco gasped, his mind was reeling and he had no idea why he felt so sick. He had to prop himself against the wall once again, leaning his back onto the wet stone for support.

Laughter again. "_Is that a threat, Draaaaaacooooo?_" The way the voice said the Slytherin's name was sickeningly sweet. Something Draco remembered from when they were in the war. Potter always tried to mock him by calling him _Draco_ the way a love-struck teenaged girl would. It had always granted Potter the reaction he wanted, and now, eight years later, nothing had changed.

"Stop it, Potter! I know it's you! Stop this at once!" Draco paused then continued, "Explain yourself! What are you up to?"

Draco sat against the wall, not caring whether his robes got dirty from the water on the stone floor or not. He remembered this place now. After one of the raids the Death Eaters had planned, they had gotten trapped within this place. It was deep underground and the only way out was to swim upward to the surface. He shook his head as if to dispel the memories of that day, trying to focus on the task at hand (whatever that might be).

He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired. He could tell it was Potter that was affecting the way he was feeling. Even though his rational mind was trying to tell him that there was no possible way that Potter was still alive. He'd been there when Potter had met his death after all.

He shivered as a sudden chill gripped him. It had been cold, but the sensation he currently felt was different. It was as if this coldness was coming from within him and not from without. This sudden change made him open his eyes and come face to face with the transparent visage of Harry Potter.

A/N: Well, two reviews is better than none, yes?

**_Ward:_** Maybe You'll just have to keep reading, ne?

**_ Meilan:_** Thanks, is this fast enough?


	3. Chapter 3

_Chaptire 3  
_

He had been kidding himself. Of course, Potter was still around. He was the kind of person that Just Wouldn't Go Away. Draco covered his eyes and laughed bitterly for a long while. His back pressed painfully into the wall every time he laughed, but he didn't mind, really. His life was becoming something so strange and twisted that the only way he could possibly cope was to laugh it off.

The pearly white figure in front of him was waiting with a look of patience that Draco had never seen when the man had been alive. Maybe death did that to a person: made them patient. He'd have to remember to ask.

"I'm drunk," Draco said suddenly, not caring whether the other wizard found him insane or ridiculous for saying something so random.

The ghost raised an eyebrow and waited silently.

"I mean," he continued, chuckling to himself as he sat upright to talk to the ghost. "I couldn't possibly be sober if I'm seeing you…" he waved his hand, "…like this."

"I'm sorry you feel that way Draco," Harry's ghost said in mock sadness.

Draco looked into the ghost's eyes, quickly discerning that this had to be real and if it weren't, he would play along anyway. He sobered up, no longer hiding behind his denial and said hesitantly, "You're really this way?"

"Yeah," Harry looked around, "I can think of plenty of better places to haunt." He wrinkled his nose, the wrinkles appearing to be a light blue.

"How'd you get this way? Are you bound to this place?" He glanced around warily. He didn't like the memories this place brought up from the recesses of his mind.

"Actually, no." Harry looked up in a facial expression that said he was thinking about something. "How about we go somewhere better than this, hm?" Harry smiled and reached out a hand.

When Draco moved to touch it, he hesitated. "You're a ghost, I can't touch you. It'd be like trying to hug the bloody Baron."

"Ewe," Harry said, wrinkling his nose once again.

"Humph," Draco crossed his arms over his chest.

"Can you feel this?" Harry raised his hand to touch Draco on the arm. He ignored Draco's flinch and poked him in the arm. Hard.

"Ow! Potter, that wasn't necessary!" Draco blinked as realization hit him.

"See? I can touch you." He smirked in triumph.

"How?"

"All in good time, my dear Watson!" Harry clapped his hands once and he was his normal (tangible) self. So transfixed by the sudden change was he that he didn't realize that their surroundings had changed as well.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said calmly and seriously, interrupting Draco's inspection of the new scenery.

"Harry Potter," Draco responded curtly.

"We have to talk."

"Yes?" Draco was eager to find out just what the hell was going on and in his eagerness, he leaned closer to Potter in anticipation of his next statement.

"It's over." Harry said as seriously as he could while trying to hide his smirk.

"What's—? Potter, be serious for once." Draco rolled his eyes as he tossed his hands into the air in exasperation. "Has dying made you daft!"

Harry was currently clutching his stomach as he laughed, his head resting on the table they were sitting at. Draco looked around him as he tried to ignore Potter to fully take in the dramatic change of scenery. It looked as if they were in the middle of an deserted camp ground. They were sitting at a picnic table in the sunshine. Birds were chirping and the lake glittered off to their left, in front of lilac-topped mountains.

Draco whistled in appreciation, something he would never do in civilized company. And, seeing as Harry Potter was not considered civilized in his sight, he didn't have to mind his manners in the least. "Where are we?"

"Dunno, made it up." He changed the subject before Draco could question him. "I really meant it when I said we needed to talk. You see, Draco." Harry sighed before continuing, "I'm not really dead."

"Okay," Draco said for lack of a better response.

"I'm not sure what I am. I'd say I was a phantom, but, I'm not sure how that works. I'm not sure how much works, really." He stopped his laughter at the dry look Draco gave him. "You are unconscious at the moment. I can affect the way you feel but I'm not that good at it yet. I've been out of practice the last couple of years." He paused before explaining, "I've been hanging out with Peeves."

"Peeves!" Draco sat straight up at the thought of the trouble the two had caused. Snape had gotten rid of Peeves years ago when he first became Headmaster. No one knew where Snape had banished the troublesome poltergeist to but no one really cared either.

"Yeah, story for another time. I can be solid in your dreams, Draco. But in the world of the living, I'm as untouchable as a ghost." As if to accentuate his point, he shifted back into his ghostly appearance, more blue than white this time.

Draco cradled his head in his hands as he tried to process this new information. A thought occurred to him all of a sudden. "If you're not dead, Potter, couldn't you find a way to bring yourself back?"

"I don't see how that could be done."

"Why not?" Draco wasn't going to say it, but Harry's silent acceptance was really pissing him off.

"For starters, my body has long-since decomposed. Secondly, I refuse to be brought back to life in any way Voldemort did. Thirdly, you're smart Draco, but not that smart." Harry reached across the table and took the blonde's hand in his. "Why do you still call me 'Potter'?"

Draco shrugged. "Habit, I still call Granger 'Granger' and Weasley 'Weasel'…" Draco trailed off at the end of his statement as if trying to coax a forgotten event back to his memory. "Oh merciful Merlin!" Draco jumped from his seat, yanking his hand from Harry's and began to pace back and forth. "Where is Analissa? What happened to her? She was acting strangely."

Realization struck him the more he thought of the situation. He glared at Harry accusingly, "Was that you?"

Harry began to panic when Draco's voice became even more out of control and his emotions were starting to rule his actions. He stood, arms outstretched, "Please, Draco. Calm down, you'll wake yourself up and then I won't be able to talk to you when you're awake."

"—I can't believe… I was careless, I—" Draco suddenly clutched at his stomach and dry-heaved again. He felt hands at his back and whispered words, but everything went black as Draco fell to the floor.

----

Draco came to the realization that he was being shaken and shouted at simultaneously a little too quickly for his liking. He coughed as he sat up, shrugging small hands off his shoulders. "I'm fine," his authoritarian voice was back.

"Miss Weasley," Draco called as he saw the girl anxiously wringing her hands together in her lap. She was kneeling on her knees next to him. He determined she had been the one shouting and shaking him since there was no one else present.

"Yes sir," her voice was shaky. The confident witch he'd known for years had now turned into an insecure and frightened little girl.

"You will meet me here tomorrow evening at precisely six forty-seven." His voice was cold as he picked himself off the floor and began to angrily swipe his wand into the air, dispelling the parchment on the floor.

"Wh—If I may ask, why, Professor?" She, too, stood up and began to gather herself together, bringing back her self-confidence.

"We will be visiting Miss Trelawney."

The same way he had the other day he exited the library, effectively leaving a very confused Gryffindor alone in the dark.

----

Analissa moved to leave the library to the safety of her common room before she turned her head toward the spot where a message made of parchment had been left on the floor. She repeated the words that had been spelled there in her head and then once more out loud.

"I'm here." She whispered in the dark.

"Who's here?" She questioned as she glanced around as if someone would be standing there watching her where she stood.

Shivering, she made her way to the common room as fast as she could before anyone could find her.

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Hope you liked this chapter! Next update: 8-12-06**

_**Meilan:**_ lol what is your first language? eats cookie> thank you! I updated so fast because the chapter had already been written I didn't rush through, don't worry. Thank you for your kind reviews!

_**Draconic Ban-Sidhe: **_ Does Sidhe mean fairy? Am I mistaken . Wouldn't be the first time... Thank you for your review, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

_**Delyn:**_ Thank you, I will as long as you read!

_**kfc badman:**_ love the name Thanks!

**_I-See-Thestrals:_** Hope you enjoyed!

_**GothicBlackRose:**_ I think its rather interesting myself, thank you for your review!

**_gbheart:_** Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!

_**emeraud.silver:**_ I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I appreciate your reviewing!

_**Ra:**_ blushes> thank you! I've gotten a lot of reviews for the last chapter, maybe if I cross my fingers I'll get a few more for this one! Thank you for your kind words and compliment. I can't to read your next review!

_**Lizzie:**_ All shall be explained later on. You'll find out, I promise. Please stick around and find out. Thanks for the review!

**That's it! See you all next chaptire!**  



	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 _

* * *

A/N: I'm on time! Enjoy!

* * *

_Chaptire 4_

-

"Professor? Who is Miss Trelawney?" Analissa was struggling to keep up with the long, swift strides of Draco Malfoy as they walked up into one of the castle's towers. Analissa was unfamiliar with this part of the castle and had no idea where they were going.

"She was the Divination professor when I was in school." They walked along in silence until the Potions professor stopped short. "Ah, here we are." Draco moved his open palm over a part of the stone wall that held no portraits. The girl watched behind the tall professor as the wall melted beneath a well-manicured hand.

"Where are we going?" She asked as they walked down the winding corridor hidden behind the now non-existent wall.

"To see Trelawney. Honestly, don't you children pay attention anymore?"

"I do, I just don't think what we're doing is… right." She trailed off again after they came to another door. This door was in the ceiling, however, and was not unlike the door that used to lead to Trelawney's old classroom.

With a wave of his wand, the door swung open from the inside, and a rope ladder dropped to land at their feet. Draco skillfully hid his wand within the fold of his sleeve and placed a hand on the ladder. "If you have doubts, I suggest you keep them to yourself. You have no choice in this matter. There is something going on here and the only person who can help is this crazy old bat." He jerked a thumb upward upon his mention of Trelawney (however unkind) and rolled his grey eyes afterwards.

Not saying another word, he began to climb the ladder. He'd done this countless times when he'd had Divination during school. He'd not liked the subject, but his father had wanted him to excel in the schedule provided for him. He scowled. Thinking about his father had always made him angry, so he suppressed the unpleasant thoughts immediately.

When he reached the top and gracefully pulled himself up enough to stand, he found that the room held many of the qualities the Divination classroom used to have.

It was visibly smoky with incense and steam. Draco inhaled deeply and registered the strong smell of tea mingling with the incense. The thump of his heavy boots on the wood floors was the only sound in the room as he walked around. A shelf against the wall held countless shrunken china cups and orbs with pearly smoke swirling within them. He could practically feel the psychic energy within the room emanating from the countless artifacts along the walls and on shelves and cupboards. Unfortunately, just because he could sense these things didn't mean he had full faith in the woman they'd traveled to the other side of the castle to see.

Professor Trelawney was no longer a teacher per se, she was just an 'advisor' for those who had 'the gift' and could not deal with it. Since Firenze did not have 'the sight' he could not help those with psychic ability and thus was the logic of keeping Trelawney on staff. Although she very rarely showed up in public nowadays (and never in front of students) she made an impact on some students' lives. Draco only knew one of her 'students': a seventh year Slytherin who had the ability to see the past through inanimate objects through touch.

Draco ignored the soft grunts the young Gryffindor made as she tried to pull herself through the hole and into the room. Making sure he was facing away from her, he closed his eyes and listened as she used her hands to claw further upward and scramble to her feet. Draco suppressed a smirk.

"Where is she?" Analissa whispered to Draco as she inched her way next to him.

"I am here child." A raspy voice called through the haze of smoke. The sound of moving beads could be heard as the woman moved into the room. "I sensed something when you came in and only wanted to verify it before I interrupted your…" she trailed off and looked Draco up and down, "…perusal."

"Trelawney," he said tersely and nodded his head once.

"Malfoy Draco," she responded. She smiled knowingly at him, "you have not practiced."

"And I have no intention of doing so. I have come to bring you Analissa Weasley. I think she might have…" he wrinkled this nose, "'the sight', too." It looked painful for him to add the word 'too' at the end of the statement, but it had to be done.

"Hmm," the woman did not respond further to Draco's statement, only nudged him aside as she went straight for Analissa. She smacked her lips in distaste after doing a full circuit around the girl. Her bright green, shimmering robes glowed orange in the candlelight as she moved. Her thin form, Draco noticed, was made even more apparent by the overly large bangles and necklaces she wore. She was getting old. Why hadn't he noticed?

Her voice pulled Draco from his train of thought. "You have your mother's hair, and her intellect, your father's eyes and his complexion. Fortunately for you, my dear, you have not inherited their lack of talent for the psychic arts."

She beamed at the girl as she stepped back from her close observations. Analissa had done a very good job of staying completely still up until the woman had backed away from her. Now, Analissa tucked her frizzy brown hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. "My mum said Divination is poppycock. And my father—" She stopped and covered her mouth lightly to stop herself from saying more.

"He probably told you to make up different scenarios for your partner's death or misfortune, isn't that right?" Draco said with only a hint of humor hidden beneath his crisp attitude.

Wide eyes stared back at him in surprise. "Yes, sir. How --?"

"A… friend told me about it." Draco frowned as his thoughts turned dark, "It was a very long time ago."

Fortunately, Analissa had noticed the change in Draco's facial features and decided not to question her Professor's latest statement. She instead turned to the bug-like Seer, "you said I have talent in the psychic arts?"

"Ah my dear, you have more than enough talent. Your aura is radiant with power and psychic energy. I don't suppose you see any spirits with us now, do you?" The woman looked hopeful as she fixed a rather large-eyed stare upon the first year.

"Er, no, not really." Analissa looked around the room and shrugged, "no I don't."

"Of course you don't!" She said loudly, clearly excited. "Spirits stay away from us because we can see them. Different from ghosts, they are. We know different though, right Professor Malfoy!" Trelawney did not wait for a reply from the Slytherin Head of House. She quickly moved into another room and reappeared with a teapot and four cups trailing behind her. "Please sit! We must drink some tea and talk of this further. I presume Professor Malfoy brought you here with questions and a purpose, hmm?"

Draco did not look directly into the knowing eyes of the former Divination teacher but did answer her question nonetheless. "Yes, actually. Sit down Miss Weasley and have some tea." Draco took the cup Trelawney was offering him but did not take a sip. "An unusual occurrence happened the other day in the library. When I came back yesterday evening, I was greeted by the same… apparition. There was, however, a significant difference from the previous time. I wanted to get your advice on the behavior of Miss Weasley."

Surprised blue eyes were set on Draco. The girl sat on a pouf next to him with her mouth open and her eyes wide, her cup forgotten on the table. "I don't remember anything odd happening last night!" The girl protested, "I didn't do anything out of ordinary."

"Miss Weasley, are you implying that I am lying? That I've made this all up?" He raised an eyebrow at her and stared at her blankly, something he'd learned from Snape. "How would you explain your being in the library last night after hours and not remembering anything except bringing me back to consciousness?"

"Hmm, sounds like an interesting night." A cold voice said to the right of the group.

All heads turned toward the dark form of the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry: Severus Snape.

"Ah, Headmaster!" Trelawney gushed as she stood up and walked up to the dark figure. "Would you like some tea? We were discussing—"

"Yes, I've heard Mr. Malfoy's account. I'm sure my presence will not prevent him from continuing?" Snape raised his dark brow almost daringly.

"Headmaster," Draco said curtly in answer, standing up with respect and bowing his head slightly.

Snape moved forward and stopped in front of Analissa. "I'm sure, Miss Weasley that you are not falling behind in your studies."

The girl looked confused at first but quickly waved her hands. "Of course not, Headmaster!"

"Hm. Well, do continue, Malfoy, I am a very busy man."

"Of course." Draco said warily and turned toward Trelawney, who had resumed her seat and was serving Snape's tea. "Miss Weasley's eyes were out of focus and traveled. Her voice was also of different quality and as I've mentioned, she does not remember anything before --"

Draco stopped his explanation as Snape's black eyes glared into him. He did not know why, but he felt that he should stop. Grey eyes focused on the section of purple carpet beneath his feet. Something in his mind told him not to mention Potter. He was lost in his thoughts when he felt a prickling sensation. He raised his eyes to Snape once more, realizing what he'd been doing.

Trelawney hummed to herself as she waited for Draco to finish. "More tea, Miss Weasley?" She asked pleasantly, seeming very different than Draco remembered. Perhaps she was becoming a more congenial type of crazy in her old age.

"I think you should add Analissa to your group, Sybil." Snape said slowly, putting his untouched tea on the table. "Malfoy," Snape called as he moved toward the exit.

"Yes, sir." Draco said as he glanced toward the redhead and the Seer. When he turned back toward the exit, Snape was already gone.

When he was back in the corridor, Snape was leaning against the wall, the dark neglected stone almost blended in with the dark robes of the Headmaster. "I would keep secrets to myself if I were you. Even if you are not sure it is a secret." In a flurry of robes, the Headmaster disappeared from his sight once again.

Thoroughly confused, Draco Malfoy slowly made his way toward his quarters. It looked as if the Headmaster wasn't going to explain why he'd been probing into his mind. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he walked through the dark corridors. He needed to get back to work; he'd been severely behind in his grading as of late.

----

Later that night, his work finished and all of his students in their beds, Draco Malfoy sat in a comfortable armchair situated in his bedroom. He was deep in thought. He didn't even notice that the fire he'd lit was slowly dwindling down or that his laundry had been brought back by the house-elves an hour ago. Nor did he notice that he'd skipped dinner – again.

A now familiar cold feeling washed over him and he knew he wasn't alone. He'd been feeling the coldness in his arms and at the back of his neck all evening. "Potter?" Draco whispered to no one in particular. It felt as if there was someone else in the room watching him.

"Are you watching me, Potter?" Draco smiled ruefully as he thought about the green-eyed git.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the first place Potter had taken them to yesterday. It had been one of the Death Eaters' meeting places during the war. It could only be reached by Portkey and Harry, Draco and Hermione had been tricked into going there. That day had been traumatic for Draco, he'd killed his first, second, and third person that day. He hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore. He hadn't been able to fight for himself, but that day he had proven himself capable of murder.

Harry's and Hermione's frightened eyes as their wands flew from their hands had spurred Draco into action that day. Draco felt nauseous as he remembered the bloody and broken bodies of his victims as they had lain on the stone floor. He'd killed his father that day.

Tears rolled unwelcome down his face. It hurt his eyes and tickled his nose as they slowly made their way downward. Draco wiped them away when the sensation became too much to handle. He shook his head viciously. His father had deserved to die, and he'd rather he'd done it himself than to have heard about someone else doing it. Why did his memories affect him this way?

Draco stood up abruptly and disregarded the dizziness he felt with the action. He strode toward his liquor cabinet and reached for a bottle of Firewhisky. His hand shook violently as he looked for a glass to drink from. He gave up and opened the bottle and raised it to his lips. When he tipped the bottle back it abruptly exploded.

Liquid was everywhere. It was on his mirror, his dresser, his clothing, his hand. His hand was bleeding and the shards of broken glass were scattered on the floor in front of him. He looked into the mirror to make sure he wasn't injured anywhere on his face and sighed in relief when he was not.

Grey eyes widened as he realized what had happened. He glanced around the room, eyed the four-poster bed with its grey silk sheets and the green curtains covering the window. Turning, he looked for anything off about the rest of the room. "Potter," he called. "Stop interfering with my life. I'm not your keeper, okay? Go to Granger or Weasley and have them help you."

Grabbing a hold of a bottle of wine, he moved to drink it when it too exploded in his hand. "Potter!" Draco shouted, tears spilling down his cheeks once more. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"It's your fault!" Draco cried out as he knelt down on the floor, not caring about the glass boring into his skin. "I'm a murderer Potter! No one wants me anymore. I can't be a part of the wizarding world like a normal person. It's your fault Potter!"

Draco wiped at his face, smearing blood onto his cheeks and nose. "Why did you come back! Why couldn't you have gone to someone else?" Draco clutched at his stomach as he gasped for breath between his sobs. "Why me? Why now?"

He felt himself blacking out again, and he knew instantly that Potter was the one responsible for all of his misery.

* * *

_**A/N: Here are the review responses! Thank you for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me!**_

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_** gbheart:**_ I'm glad you enjoyed it and think its creepy, I was trying to do that. I wasn't sure if it would work. I hope you keep reading! 

_**Meilan:**_ I'm glad you think its getting better, I'm really trying on this one. Your english is good, are you self-taught? I hope you read next chapter! I find I wish I could be Harry sometimes, too.

_**emeraud.silver:**_ thank you thank you, review soon! (laughs)

_**starrynight:**_ Thank you very much. Yes, it will contain H/D slash, I guess I forgot to put a warning, I'll put one up now. I appreciate that you'd read it anyway, considering. I look forward to your next review!

**_Draconic Ban-Sidhe:_** I hope you enjoyed this one, too! I already sent you a reply to your review. Sorry again for the mix-up.()

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_And that's a wrap guys! See you next time! R&R please!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Dislaimer:** See First Chapter_

_Chaptire 5_

Green grass tickled Draco's nose as he woke up slowly. Startled by the abrupt change of scenery, he sat up and looked around him. Wild flowers grew in lavender and red surrounded by tall wild grass. He could hear running water nearby and realized he was on a hill. The village below was quiet and far enough that the houses seemed like toys.

"I'm sorry," a softly spoken voice next to him said.

Draco turned to face the owner of the voice and looked the figure up and down. He seemed normal enough, his raven-colored hair in disarray and his glasses shielding his green eyes as they had done since the day Draco had met him. Everything from his ill-fitting Muggle clothes and the nervous fidgeting of his fingers was absolutely normal. For Harry Potter.

It took a few seconds for Draco to realize just what the former Gryffindor was apologizing for. When he did, his anger flared and his eyes prickled with the sudden swelling of tears. He found that he couldn't look at the other man without wanting to hurt him. He quickly turned away.

The crunching of grass reached Draco's ears but he ignored it to focus on not crying. Potter had seen him at his worst enough times. He didn't need to give Potter another display of his hurt and the truth of his feelings. The truth was he blamed all his troubles on Harry Potter. He always had, ever since he was a child, even before he'd even met the Boy Who Lived. Every time he'd been beaten by his father, every time he'd gotten in trouble, everything that had ever gone wrong was Potter's doing or Potter's fault. He'd convinced himself that it was true until the day he'd joined the Dumbledore's Army.

Draco clutched the grass beneath him and sniffed deeply. He hated crying and he hated not being in control of his emotions. But most of all, he hated himself.

Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders and Draco gasped with surprise.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered against his back. Draco could feel Harry's lips moving against his back and feel his warm breath permeate through his shirt to his skin. "So sorry," Harry continued.

"Get off of me, Potter," Draco said as he closed his eyes tightly. He tried to shrug his shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to wrest the man's arms from his person. The fact was, however, that somewhere deep inside Draco, he yearned for physical affection, and liked the feel of Potter's arms around him. He would leave these thoughts alone and examine them another time. Feelings such as these should be inspected with a bottle of wine or scotch at hand.

When Draco's shoulders moved, Harry stiffened in hesitation, but he moved away from the other man just enough so that he was no longer touching him. Harry's face was full of remorse and his mouth was set in a small frown. He looked close to tears and Draco couldn't help but feel sad.

"It's just so complicated," Draco began as he bodily turned to face the other man. The expression stayed the same and gray eyes roved toward the dirt-covered knees flattening the grass before him. Draco clutched at his hair and shook his head slowly. "Why, Potter? Answer me that."

There were a few moments after the question was posed in which total silence reigned. Not even the wind or the birds dared make a sound to disturb their conversation. Harry's eyes gazed into the sky as Draco stared at his lap. Suddenly, Harry eased himself up from the ground with his hands. Now standing, he kept his gaze locked onto the sky.

"I don't know," he said softly.

Draco looked upward quickly. "How could you not know?"

"I'm just as confused as you are. One day I was helping Peeves plot against some Muggles and the next I was in the Slytherin dorm." Harry glanced down at Draco and smiled softly. "You were shouting at one of your students for hexing the entire common room."

"I was not 'shouting'," Draco countered as he stood up to face the raven-haired Gryffindor. "I was disciplining."

"Right," Harry said with his voice full of doubt.

"Whatever Potter, I believe the point of this conversation was to answer my questions. Not to discuss my disciplining strategies." Draco avoided Harry's eyes and looked down into the still village with longing.

"I wish life were easy," he whispered as he watched a small puff of smoke escape one of the chimneys below.

"I wish death were easy." Harry's tone of voice stirred something in Draco that he'd thought long gone, perhaps not even in existence.

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This is too bloody difficult. Why don't you go to Granger? She's the smart one. She can help you."

"I can't," Harry said simply.

"Why the bloody hell not!" Draco shouted, facing toward Harry in his anger instead of avoiding the piercing emerald gaze.

He fought back a growl as Harry fixed a blank stare at him instead of answering. He was angry at Potter, miserable and tired. He was more tired than usual and couldn't find a way to break himself from the situation. He'd once prided himself in being able to wriggle his way out of commitments at the flick of a wand but there was no way to get out of this one.

What angered him above all was the fact that Potter hadn't answered him yet.

"Well? Let's have it," he said with impatience. "Why can't you go to Granger?"

Harry dug the toe of his white trainer into the ground and focused his gaze on the action. Finally, he muttered something but Draco couldn't make sense of it.

"Excuse me?" Draco ground out through clenched teeth.

"You're the only one who can see me!" Harry shouted back. He looked like he was crying but Draco couldn't know for sure because Harry had already turned around and began walking away.

Draco stood his ground. 'He'll come back' he thought to himself as he watched Harry's figure decrease in size the farther he got. Draco crossed his arms across his chest and began to think. How was he supposed to figure out what Harry's plight was without any help? Why couldn't he go to Granger and ask her for her opinion on the matter?

Snape's words from earlier rang in his ears. "I would keep secrets to myself if I were you. Even if you are not sure it is a secret."

Potter had never told him not to say anything; he'd just automatically assumed that it wasn't okay for him to tell anyone. Since he'd not been forbidden, he was now free to go about this situation whichever way he pleased.

After all, this was to help Potter.

His decision made, he focused on willing himself to wake. He was dreaming, so the only logical approach toward a way out was to wake himself up.

----

Draco winced as Madam Pomfrey pulled out the shards of glass with her wand. It was slow and painful and Draco was convinced Poppy was drawing it out on purpose.

"How did you say this happened again?" Pomfrey said critically as she raised her eyebrow up at him. The woman was sitting on a small stool so that her face was level with the knees she was currently tending to.

Upon waking, Draco had been greeted by extreme pain in his legs. He'd passed out on the shards of glass and they were now embedded into his skin. Eyes red with the effort of trying not to cry, he fire-called Madam Pomfrey and she'd come straight over.

He was now trying to compile a good excuse for his (and his room's) current state. He glanced over to the liquor covered floor and sighed. "I was… not feeling well." Draco ignored the unbelieving glance from the witch and continued slowly. "I felt dizzy, probably from the drink and dropped the bottle."

"And-?" she said with impatience as she continued to search for more shards.

"I slipped…" he finished with only the slightest bit of hesitancy.

Pomfrey pulled out a large shard from his skin quickly and without warning. Draco jumped up with the sudden flood of pain and cursed under his breath. He looked upwards to school his features and thus did not see the look of smug satisfaction on Poppy's face. It was quickly masked by her usual stern 'what I'm telling you is for your own good you idiot' look.

"Draco Malfoy, you should know that liquor won't solve anything." She pulled out another, smaller, shard, thankfully slower this time. "Why were you not feeling well?" she prodded in a more civil tone as she stopped the flow of his blood with a flick of her wand.

Draco looked down at her from his perch on the bed and raised a pale blond eyebrow. "Do you honestly expect me to answer that?"

Another quick extraction was Draco's punishment for his answer. Draco wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he'd heard something along the lines of "secretive Slytherins" under her breath. He ignored the witch's babble and concentrated on the pain and furthering his plans. A call for Granger was in order.

His only problem was how to go about this without Potter interfering. If the ghost could break bottles in his hand then there was no telling what else he was capable of. No, he needed a way in which he could make sure that the spirit wouldn't know what was going on. He pondered to himself, ignoring the radiating pain on his knees and feet as he plotted.

----

"I expect a well thought out paper on the uses of lacewing flies, and armadillo bile in potions. Be sure to compare the two of them in combination as well as separately. I want it to be two feet in length; surely you all can accomplish such minimal work. You have ample time to complete your assignment and I expect it on my desk at the beginning of our next session." Draco fixed all of his students with a warning glare, almost daring them to object. "No exceptions, no excuses. Have I made myself clear?"

Mumblings of "yes, sir" and "uh-huh" mingled with the din of the students putting their materials away so their escape could be made with haste and without the encumbrance of having to pack up. "Very well," he said. "You are dismissed."

He allowed for half of the class (mostly Gryffindors) to flee before he singled out one of the three remaining lions. "Analissa, if I may have a word."

Draco resisted rolling his eyes at the giggle and the pointed nudging the young Weasley received from one of her friends. "Alone," he added when the other two Gryffindors had only lagged behind instead of following the Slytherins out the room.

With twin sighs and winks, the friends quitted the room, leaving Draco and his student alone in the room. Draco sat down and rummaged through his drawers for the letter he'd written to Hermione Granger. He'd stayed up after Pomfrey had left to write the note saying he'd changed his mind and would visit with Granger and her husband on the next Hogsmeade weekend. As this date was drawing near, he'd needed to act fast and send the note off with the youngest Weasley so that she may send it to her family.

Finding it hidden amongst the papers he'd collected from his fifth-years that morning, he double checked the seal and security charms on the letter and handed it to the abnormally silent first-year. He raised an eyebrow at the girl when she didn't say anything, only tucking it in a pocket within her robes.

"I need that to reach your mother as soon as possible," Draco said as he fixed the papers he'd moved about during his search. Something had changed about the girl and it unnerved him in some way he couldn't grasp.

Physically, the only difference between this Analissa and the girl he'd known before the odd events of the last week had occurred were the signs of fatigue. It was in her eyes and face. The way her eyes were pink and her eyelids drooped. Her skin was more pale than usual and her posture spoke of an intense tiredness Draco could relate to all too well.

She fixed a calm gaze on him and nodded. "Is that all, Professor?"

"Well," he said as he folded his hands atop his desk. "How are your lessons with Trelawney?"

"Interesting," Analissa said. When Draco raised an eyebrow she added. "A bit odd and tiresome as well, Professor, I must admit."

"Well, that cannot be helped when Miss Trelawney is involved, I'm afraid." Draco moved toward his papers again, rearranging them unnecessarily. He needed something to do to occupy his hands. For some reason, he was nervous and couldn't sit still. "Very well then, if there is nothing else, you are dismissed."

"Yes, Professor." The young girl turned toward the door, holding her books in front of her and her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Miss Weasley," he called after her.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Do make sure it gets to her on time."

Analissa smiled, but Draco didn't see it. He was still moving papers around. "Yes, Professor." Analissa then turned and walked out of the dungeons. Presumably to meet up with her friends.

Draco sighed as he was left alone once more. This quietness would not last very long. He had a group of sixth years coming in soon. He rubbed his temples as he tried to settle his thoughts. Suddenly, coldness swept over him that he was becoming both familiar and annoyed with.

"This is for your own good, Potter," he said aloud for Harry's benefit if he was indeed listening. To himself, he said, 'And you'd better be grateful.'

_**A/N: Here are the review responses! Thank you guys for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me! Oh, and for those of you who are reading and not reviewing, I'd like to thank you even though I don't know who you are. Reviewers help me say thank you through responses but I know most people don't have time (or the desire) to review. Anyway, thank you all for your support!  
**_

_**sakura blossoms4:**_ I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hope to see another review soon!

_**windchaser90:**_ I can't wait to find out either. Just kidding... I hope you stick around to find out! Thanks for the review!

_**starrynight:**_ Just email me and tell me what you're confused about so I can make sure I explain in later chapters (please). I'm glad you're enjoying this H/D slash fic, I feel honored. There are a lot of really well written ones out there and I applaud you for being open-minded (smiles) see you next review! My email is on my Author's Page.

_**gbheart:**_ I have updated, as per your request (giggles) thanks for being loyal!

_**emeraud.silver:**_ hmm I guess I could share Draco with you because of all the nice reviews you always leave me. Let me know what you think of this one!

_**Meilan:**_ Congratulations and I'm sorry I made you faint. I hope this one wasn't as traumatic to you? I look forward to your next response.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Sorry about the impromptu leave-of-absence I took. Let's just say things have been busy. So busy, in fact, that I was not able to get this chapter beta'd, so please don't judge be too badly on my grammatical errors, I beg of you. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installation! On to the story!

-

_Chaptire 6_

Draco didn't know quite what to expect when he'd seen Potter's grave but the quiet secluded area wasn't what he'd had in mind. He certainly hadn't predicted that the day he'd chosen to visit Potter's grave would be one of the nicest they'd had in a while.

Despite the cold, the sun was out and if one stood in the right spot, the warmth could penetrate the cold and warm their face. It was in this fine weather that the newest Weasleys and one Draco Malfoy met at a hero's grave.

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets. The action was more for having something to do with them than to keep warm since his black leather gloves were equipped with heating spells. He found himself grinding his teeth, a nasty habit, and fought with himself against fidgeting. It would be rude, he told himself. And, of course, Malfoys were never rude.

He'd met Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (fondly known to Draco as Weasel and Granger) at Hogsmeade with their daughter Analissa. They'd shared the common niceties before portkeying to the site of Harry Potter, the fallen hero. Draco didn't know where he was, but the cemetery seemed well-kept (probably because of its famous inhabitants) and peaceful.

Now that he thought about it, the graveyard did not look like anything that wouldn't become the greatest heroes of their time. Death was such a melancholy affair, and Draco had made a point to avoid burials and the like, that he supposed his mind had conjured up a setting somewhat akin to that emotion. In his mind's eye he had seen a gray picture of solitude and never-ending grief, a dismal piece of land with crooked gravestones and crows, black cats, ravens or other foreboding creatures.

He found the drastic change between his imagination's conjuring to the truth somewhat relieving. The scene before him was more relaxing, more conducive to moving on after the dead had been buried. Large trees (kept alive, no doubt, by magic) stood in various poses along the plain offering shade that was left unappreciated in this type of weather. The lawn was kept tidy with not a leaf out of place. The tombstones were kept in good condition, flowers settling at the base of almost every single one.

Draco distracted himself by staring out into the distance, allowing the cold wind to whip his hair around his features. In this cold weather he looked just a little paler than usual his aristrocratic features were set firmly, allowing none into his emotions. This is the way both he and his father worked hard to become. His eyebrows were knitted with concentration, his eyes slightly closed to ward off the wind. He was brought back by the sound of the grass crunching beneath feet.

"Seems like only yesterday, mate." Ronald Weasley broke the silence as he moved to touch the top of the gray stone with pale digits. He crouched down in front of the stone and began tracing the name letter by letter and speaking a prayer in a hushed voice. It seemed to be a consistent occurrence because Hermione and her daughter were unaffected. Hermione distractedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she held her daughter against her side.

A breeze chilled their bodies. Malfoy felt it more so than any of them. The chill wracked his body but no one noticed. His company was thoroughly engrossed with their memories. He wondered vaguely what it was that Analissa thought about during these meetings. She could not have known Harry Potter seeing as she'd only been an infant. Draco blinked that stray thought away and focused on the goings-on in front of him.

Malfoy felt so out of place standing with these people who had loved Potter. These people, he concluded to himself, still loved Potter in spite of everything. He tucked his hair behind his ears as the wind tousled it again. Gray eyes watched as Granger and Analissa both knelt on the ground in front of the tombstone next to Weasel. They bowed their heads and spoke soft words in unison, then individually. It seemed like he was an invader in some very private ritual.

It probably was a ritual, Malfoy thought as he blew out a puff of air and licked his dry lips. His heart began to ache and he tore his eyes away from the sight. He looked out into the distance where more and more tombs sat peacefully guarding their forever slumbering inhabitants. He wondered absently where he would be buried. Would he want to be buried with his family in the Malfoy graveyard? It once would have been an honor to, but now he thought differently. It was no longer an honor to bear the name Malfoy.

A hand on his shoulder startled him slightly and promptly pulled him from his musings. He looked into the saddened eyes of Hermione Granger and raised an eyebrow. Granger's lip quirked upward for a split second with suppressed humor and nodded toward the gravesite. "Would you like to speak to him?"

It was at this moment that he longed to tell her everything. That Potter was, kind of, alive and that he'd spoken to him on numerous occasions. He wanted to beg for her help so that he could be rid of the spirit Potter had been reduced to. He opened his mouth to say these things but a cold breeze whipped their hair upward and swirled around them. He wrapped his arms around himself to retain what little heat he had left in him. He glared upward into the sky, praying that Potter wouldn't interfere with him telling his best friend about his plight.

He looked back into Granger's questioning gaze and nodded numbly before moving toward the stone. He was grateful that the three Weasleys moved a good distance away so that he could not be overheard, at least. Draco Malfoy dropped down to one knee, wincing at the crack of frozen leaves being crushed under his weight. Every sound was amplified by ten thousand; his breath came out harsh and fast.

His eyes looked down to the flowers that had been left and wondered why they were there. It seemed inappropriate, having so much life surrounding the dead. It seemed as if they were teasing the dead by showing them what they were missing out on. Draco shivered slightly and reached out to the section of the tombstone that spoke of Potter.

_To the man who sacrificed everything, we are eternally grateful_

_Honorable son, loving friend and brave man_

_Harry Potter, Order of Merlin, first-class_

It seemed so empty. That wasn't Potter at all. What about his passion? Where was his hatred for evil? His power? Where was the eleven year old with too-large spectacles hiding wide, green eyes? The person who saved the entire world, not just wizarding, but the entire world was not described on this piece of stone with the Gryffindor emblem imprinted atop it.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he read it over and over. This didn't seem right to him. What did Potter think about this? Had he even visited his own grave?

Draco's mouth opened and as he spoke, puffs of smoke were carried by the wind. "I'll help you, Potter. I didn't help you in the beginning and I obviously wasn't enough help in the end either. You can't be a pain in the arse about it. You can't stop me from doing something that will help me figure this out." Draco licked his lips once more and reached out to the stone, tracing the name engraved into the stone in large letters. "See you soon, Potter."

When he walked back to the small family, he caught the end of their conversation. He hadn't really thought about how he was going to tell Hermione, let alone getting a private chat with said former Gryffindor. He and Ron made eye contact and all that passed between them was a curt nod from each at the same time. Inwardly, it surprised Draco that their past hadn't come between them during this meeting. Whether or not it had something to do with Potter's grave being mere yards from where they stood, he didn't know, but he thought it refreshing to meet without arguing. As it was, they didn't have Potter to stop their feud.

"So we'll head back to Hogsmead then." Hermione said as she smoothed down her daughter's hair. "Let's apparate to the Hog's Head. We can all enjoy something warm there."

With a nod, Draco Malfoy closed his eyes and concentrated. He didn't remember what it had been their apparating instructor had told them. It had been some drivel on three letters or something of the like. Obviously Draco didn't agree with that form of apparition. He pictured the Hog's Head after closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His stomach was a bit unsettled, but that had always happened to him when he apparated, so he didn't attribute it to anything other than that.

He glanced around and looked for red hair (the most effective way to spot a Weasley), finding two spots of red he walked toward them. He pulled his gloves off as he walked to his destination. When he'd caught up with them Ron and Hermione were bidding farewell to their daughter. They hugged and the girl was off, waving at her teacher as she passed him by.

"I guess it's just us, then?" Draco said as he pulled out a chair to sit in.

"Guess so," Ron muttered as he fussed with his robes.

Draco was surprised, really, that Ronald Weasley could actually wear something less than a year old that wasn't faded or had belonged to anyone (or anything) else. His robes were Green and black and covered with a thick black cloak fastened at his neck. Physically, he resembled the same Weasley he'd fought with during school and well into the war. He was taller than Draco with the same pale skin but riddled by the same boyish freckles characterized by the Weasley clan. His hair was combed down at the moment and looked a darker red than it had in school but it was perfectly maintained. Yes, Draco concluded, Ronald Weasley had grown up.

Suddenly a beeping noise went off and Ron moved to one of the pockets within his cloak. He pulled out a small box with a flashing light on one side and words Draco couldn't read. He pressed something on its surface that stopped the sound and sighed. He put it back into his robes and sent a look toward Hermione.

"Sorry guys, I've got to go. It's the Ministry and I can't get out of this one." He moved to Hermione and kissed her quickly on the mouth and then toward Draco, shaking his hand and smiling genuinely. "It was nice seeing you again. We'll meet up sometime, yeah?" At Draco's nod Ron rushed out of the pub, fidgeting with his cloak on his way.

Draco made eye contact with Hermione and assessed her very much the same way he had her husband. She was dressed in well-fitting and stylish robes. She wasn't overly dressed as his mother had had the habit of doing and he noticed that she had only a pair of simple earrings and her wedding band on. Burgundy looked good on her he concluded as he covertly analyzed her clothing. It had been a habit he'd once planned on breaking. He'd been brought up judging people and was taught that it was acceptable to make judgments on people based on their appearance or lineage. He knew it was wrong and yet he could not stop himself from doing it.

While Hermione told the bar maiden what she wanted to drink Draco contemplated how he was going to broach the subject of Potter. He hadn't really thought about what words he would say. Most of his planning at revolved around getting together without Potter's interference. He hadn't seen the spirit in over a day so he hadn't really needed the excuses and cover-ups he'd come up with while grading the last of his papers.

He vaguely registered Hermione's question pertaining his beverage of choice. He distractedly ordered his drink and avoided making eye contact with Granger. The sound of his name being called forced him to look at Hermione. She looked worried in the way mothers look worried. The look she was giving him made his stomach hurt.

"Granger- I mean, Mrs. Weasley, or…" He suddenly grew nervous. He hadn't a clue how to verbally acknowledge her. In his mind, she was still Granger, but now her last name was Weasley, the name that had once left a bad taste in his mouth.

Surprisingly, Hermione smiled easily and corrected him, "Hermione is fine Draco." She shifted in her chair and maintained her smile as she fixed her brown eyes on his gray ones. Brown eyes had never moved him, they'd always seemed to plain, but these eyes, he found were alive with happiness and contentment. He was lulled back to an easy state of emotions. He was still guarded, but not quite as much as usual.

"How's Snape?" Hermione asked as she folded her hands on the table.

The question was not one he'd expected from Granger, but he supposed he didn't really know her enough to predict what she'd ask about. He found nothing remarkable to say so he settled. "He's doing fine considering his profession." Draco smirked but outwardly cringed, Snape would not have appreciated his comment.

Hermione laughed and he could see it in her eyes that she was genuinely amused. "Are you not in a similar profession, Professor Malfoy?" She laughed again.

He was relieved when the waitress brought their drinks because he really hadn't had a good retort to that statement that didn't involve something particularly rude and insulting. He decided to change the subject. "So, Hermione, you're a Healer now?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione said, her smile changing slightly. It wasn't a negative change, but a change nonetheless. "I'm actually trying to specialize, but I can't find a suitable field. They're all so interesting!"

"That's wonderful." Draco said. He didn't really mean it, and he could tell in his voice that he was distracted, so there was no doubt that Hermione could tell. Her smile was still on her lips as she sipped at her drink. When the cup was put back down on their wooden table, her smile was gone.

"Draco, I don't mean to pry, but is there something on your mind? Something you want to tell me?"

Draco, now faced with the perfect opportunity to tell her what he'd wanted to, could not bring himself to do it. Something about this left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew that Harry hadn't specifically told him not to tell anyone, but it was implied, and Draco was fully aware of that implication. Clearing his head of those thoughts, he ploughed on, forcing the words onto his tongue.

"Actually, yes, there is something." He sat forward, his hands on the table. Yes, he was actually going to do it. This was for his and Harry's good. Harry would be getting help and Draco would have a normal, spirit-less life. Well, as normal as Draco Malfoy's life could be, anyway.

He opened his mouth and the words wouldn't come. Why was it so difficult? He just needed to tell her: Hermione, your best friend isn't really dead and he won't leave me alone. That's it. He just needed to say it.

"I just need to say it!" He said aloud, completely by accident.

"Okay," Hermione said, leaving him to continue.

"I have a f- no, that's not quite right. What I meant was," he paused to think once more. He avoided the patient brown eyes that were staring into him, analyzing him, studying him. "I just- ugh!" He slammed his fists into the table and sat up straight, almost pushing himself up on his feet with the force he put on the table. "I have to say it!"

"Alright, Draco, I understand. Whatever it is, you can tell me." Hermione soothed and reached out a hand to him, signaling him to sit. "Please sit and you can tell me."

Not a second after her statement, there was the bang of wood against wood and a strong wind carrying snow pervaded the room. Wind ruffled their hair, sending the cold through their bodies and a collective shiver enfolded the pub. Everyone looked at the door where a gaggle of Ravenclaws had come through talking and carrying on. All thoughts and conversations were forgotten in lieu of watching the newcomers and praying the door would close soon. Once it did the spell that had come over them broke and a roar of talking erupted once more, the teenagers forgotten instantly.

"Ooohh, it's cold." Hermione shivered as she wrapped her cloak more firmly around herself. She moved to fix her hat when another burst of cold air knocked it clean off her head. "My hat!" Hermione cried as she lunged to catch it. Draco's eyes narrowed as he noticed the hat move higher and effectively out of Hermione's reach.

"I'll get it Hermione," Draco said as he followed the hat's trajectory. He finally caught up to it, brushing the snow from it as he picked it up. The brown fur that covered it was frozen to the touch and he thought about putting his gloves on again. "Potter," Draco growled under his breath as he turned back toward the table.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Hermione suddenly appeared within his line of sight, startling him. Fortunately, Draco Malfoy was always in control of his emotions and facial features. Outwardly, he did not look affected by the Healer's sudden appearance.

"I have to go," he said as he handed her the hat he'd picked up. He walked away from her startled form and put his gloves on at the same time.

He ignored the sound of his name and the whispers that followed him out the pub. He knew it had been a bad idea to do this. Why had he gone through with it anyway? He apparated to Malfoy manor without a second thought, the snow whipping his face as he concentrated on his destination.

_The Library, Malfoy Manor._

-

-

-

_**Author's Note:**_ Once again, thank you to my wonderful reviewers! I hope I get some more! Thanks for your support!

**Lady of the Rogue's sister:** Thanks so much for the review. My brother steals my sn...hehehe...()

**gbheart:** Of course you're counted as loyal! I've had glass in me myself and thank Merlin I'm not sqeamish because I had to pull it out myself. Thank you for your never-ending support! I hope you liked this chapter.

**Meilan:** Uhhh, thanks (laughs) you're funny. Yeah, I think he should go for it too...(pushes Draco). Get on with it! (laughs) He just doesn't listen to what I say.

**Ketamine:** Thanks for reading my story! I'm honored! I'm glad you think it's good and that I write well! Such nice comments (blushes) Trust me, I'll be keeping up with your alternate 'Ghost'.

**Deep Color:** Sure, it doesn't matter, but, what's an HD? I hope you actually came back...()


	7. Chapter 7

_Chaptire 7_

His trip to Malfoy Manor had not been as productive as he would have liked. He ended up Apparating back to Hogwarts' gates and walking to the school in the middle of the night. Disappointment had taken over him and it made him even more tired than he'd originally been. Climbing into bed he wondered why all of this was affecting him so badly.

He'd sympathized with Potter and his situation, but he didn't really have a responsibility to rectify the situation. He found himself wondering whether it was even rectifiable. He noticed absently that he felt hungry. He couldn't remember feeling the urge to actually eat in a long time. He closed his eyes and summoned a house elf. After ordering a light dinner, he picked himself up and went to the bathroom to wash up.

He leaned against the sink counter and rubbed at his temples. He resolved to go back to the Manor and try again to look for something that could possibly help Potter. The sooner he found something, the sooner he could go back to his boring life.

Although he'd been to Malfoy manor since its pseudo-abandonment, he was still surprised at the state he'd found his home. His mind was sent reeling with childhood memories as he'd cast a cursory glance at his surroundings. Easily, the memories conflicted with the sight he'd been granted. Outwardly, his home had looked no different than when he'd last left it. He looked down at the water that was running off his body in red rivulets and frowned. When he'd stepped foot on the property a red liquid he dared not identify had fallen on him from nowhere. He took it to mean his family had been the blood-traitors and not the victims of Voldemort's short-lived reign.

It hurt to be confronted by his family's sins on his own property. There had been a logical reason for his avoidance of the place. The threat of being hit with hexes set up by Death Eater haters was nearly enough to cause him to leave. Looking back, he probably should have just left and given up but he'd been drawn back by some unnatural force. He was curious and no amount of hexes could thwart him from getting to his destination. The doorknob burned as he turned it; the spells working as they automatically unlocked the door for the heir. He closed the door behind him and allowed himself to be swamped in darkness.

It was dark. That thought was the first to surface from his mind. There was also the strong smell of dust and general oldness neglected houses tended to have. The air he breathed in was thick with dust and he hadn't even turned any lights on. He looked around as best he could within the darkness because, for some unfathomable reason, he hadn't the desire to turn on the lights. Perhaps his hesitation was rooted in his reluctance to view his once splendid home reduced to decay and age.

His mother had once kept the house decorated with the best furniture and the most expensive rugs, curtains, and antiques. Now it was practically empty with all he'd sold. Ironically, not many people were interested in buying anything that had once been in a Malfoy's possession and he'd had the hardest time getting rid of some things. What remained was covered in such a thick layer of dust his everything around him seemed gray or black depending on the original color.

When he'd climbed the stairs, his shoes hadn't made the squelching sound he'd expected. There was no creaking or groaning from the floors at all. Not a sound was heard and Draco could feel his heart rate speeding up as he got closer to his target. Reaching the door, he stood in front of it with a look of intense concentration on his face.

" Ergnas Orup," he murmured softly and dispassionately as he spoke the password.

When the library doors had opened, he stood face to face with the library that, in all his years, could never rival any other in expanse. During his childhood, he would have boasted about its vastness and brag about its contents but now he wrinkled his nose at the dust that covered every surface. It was then he decided that he could not begin his research here.

He sighed as he thought about the sack of shrunken books awaiting him in his sitting room. It was true that he couldn't do his research in the library because the clean-up alone would take days and he hadn't the time nor patience to add that chore to his list. Draco splashed cold water over his face and looked at his reflection. Turning away from the image of the shell of a man looking accusingly at him, he walked tiredly to his bedroom where his food was currently awaiting him.

--

That morning at breakfast (which he'd taken with his students for once) an owl landed in front of him and presented him with a letter. Draco, not used to receiving correspondence from anyone, thought that it might have been an error. He looked around the staff table to see if anyone recognized the owl but none even looked up from their plates. Though the staff table was almost empty, the professors had remained in their usual places, thus allowing the empty spaces to separate them from one another. Draco liked it this way, seeing as he no longer needed to talk with his coworkers in forced and insincere conversation.

An irritated hoot disturbed him from his thoughts and Draco looked at the bird with a curious gaze. "Are you sure you're looking for me? Draco Malfoy." He pointed to himself and raised an eyebrow at the bird. The brown owl hooted as she flapped her wings and knocked over his goblet. Draco sprang into action and removed the rolled up letter from the bird's leg as quickly as he could manage.

No sooner than he had removed the parchment than the owl had flown off, leaving behind a few brown feathers. Draco watched the bird fly away for a moment and then looked down to what lay in his hands. With quick hands he untied the string and read the letter.

_Draco,_

_I know you are probably busy. I can't help but feel worried about you after our last meeting. You seemed preoccupied with something and I can't help but wonder what it was you were about to tell me before you left so abruptly. _

_Please promise me that if you wish to talk, you'll send word._

_Hermione_

Draco swallowed thickly as he rolled the parchment up and tucked it into his sleeve. He did not know how to act around Granger anymore now than he had when they'd been children but he found her openness a bit comforting. With a wave of his wand, the spilled goblet was righted and refilled itself with his pumpkin juice. He waved his wand over his robes as well, spelling the wetness away and banished the brown feathers. Sighing, he rose from the table, leaving his half-eaten food on the table and walked toward the dungeons to prepare for his first lecture.

As he walked he noticed that he had once again eaten more than he had usually. When he'd woken this morning, he did not have a headache or heavy eyelids and the circles under his eyes had faded just enough to be noticeable in the mirror as he shaved. He reflected back on the short letter he'd received from Granger-Weasley and decided that he didn't quite mind having someone care for him slightly. The corners of his full mouth turned up into the shadow of a smile unnoticed by the Potions professor and so when students stared openly at him, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why.

He also didn't realize that he hadn't seen or felt Potter in more than a day.

--

Draco stood in front of his mirror in a daze. The last few days had been a whirlwind of lost hopes and the monotony of trying to keep his students in line before being let off for holiday. After seeing to the few students that had stayed behind, he caught up with all of his paperwork (finally) and slipped away to Malfoy Manor once more. None of the books he'd gone through had any information that could help him and Draco was starting to feel his determination ebbing away.

He hadn't seen Harry for three days now, and he hated to admit that he was worried for the spirit. Draco leaned over the sink and propped himself up on his elbows, allowing for the sink to support his weight. He didn't look as painfully thin as he had before. He couldn't help but notice that his feelings of hunger were becoming more intense. Before, he never really had any desire to eat and this had caused Draco to become overly thin. He thought idly about earlier in the day when he'd seen Pomfrey and she'd looked him over with a small smile of satisfaction.

Sighing, Draco pushed himself away from the sink, grabbed his new bottle of body wash and stepped into the shower. With a softly spoken incantation, water poured of its own accord from the shower head atop the blond wizard's head. Groaning in rapture, pale hands moved to massage his aching muscles, relieving tension as he pressed his fingertips into his shoulders.

He stopped his movements and allowed himself to be directly under the spray of hot water. He could feel the scalding water burn his skin and could see that he was turning rather red but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. The water made him feel clean. It was as if the hotter the water; the more sins would be washed away from his person. He didn't truly believe this, of course, but he felt it in the same way one feels he is safer with the lights on.

Suddenly, Draco felt a coldness sweep over his body, traveling from his toes to his ears and back down. Draco shivered involuntarily, opening his gray eyes to peer at the water above him and registering the steam billowing from the shower into the rest of the bathroom. Draco's momentary confusion was swept away by sudden realization. Quick as lightening, Draco turned to face the figure he knew would be watching him.

"Potter! You're invading my privacy!" Draco cried in outrage. If he hadn't been red already, Harry would have seen the blush blooming across his cheeks and up his neck.

"Malfoy," Harry said in response, not looking chagrinned in the slightest. He was floating within the stall, sitting with one knee over the other as though in a chair. His fist was under his chin as if his head was supported by that one appendage.

"Do you have any sense of decency?" Draco said, calmer now that the surprise and mortification of Potter's arrival had passed.

"I did, but then I started hanging out with Peeves…" Harry smirked, allowing for Draco to finish the statement on his own.

"And he convinced you not to care." At Harry's nod, Draco rubbed his eyes with his hands. He waved one hand to stop the water from flowing and sat down cross-legged on the tiled floor.

When Harry's transparent eyebrow rose in question Draco shook his head to dispel any comments on his behavior. Harry swung his legs from their crossed position and floated so that he was hovering near Draco's face. He reached out a pale blue hand as if to touch Draco's cheek. "Are you okay?" He murmured with genuine concern.

"They want to know, Harry." Draco blinked at the way the name had felt so foreign on his tongue.

The ghost sighed and pulled his hand back. "Perhaps a nap is in order?" Harry smirked in the hopes of inciting some sort of reaction in the blond.

All Harry got, however, was a "perhaps" and a deep sigh that spoke of endless nights of research and the difficulty of watching over his young students.

"C'mon Draco," Harry smiled gently. "If you finish washing up and change into your pajamas, you'll feel better. Then you can sleep and I'll follow you."

This seemed to work, seeing as Draco nodded and immediately stood to continue washing. He glanced back at Harry once, probably to see if the former Gryffindor was still watching, but Harry had gotten the hint and left. Draco made quick work of washing himself and only stayed under the pulsing water a bit longer than necessary. He felt physically and mentally exhausted, and he wasn't in any way prepared to step out of the shower into the cold air of his room.

Absently, he wondered at Potter's reaction to his current state. The look on Potter's face had been one of genuine concern, a look he'd only received from a handful of people thus far. A blush crept back up his neck at the realization that Potter had seen him naked and that the Slytherin hadn't tried to cover himself once throughout the whole encounter. He chalked it up to being tired and moved to get out of the shower stall.

After toweling himself dry, he dressed into green silk pajama pants and walked out of the bathroom. He glanced wearily around the room, slightly disheartened that Harry wasn't there but not too sad because he knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, the Gryffindor would haunt his dreams. As expected, he fell asleep soon after landing on the bed. He hadn't even had the energy to cover himself, he was so tired.

--

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Draco glanced up with surprised gray eyes as he registered his surroundings. It seemed as if they were in a coffee shop and he looked down to see that he was cradling a cup of light brown coffee in both of his hands. He stared out the window next to the red table he sat at to see that it was snowing outside.

Draco shifted his gaze across the table to stare into the concerned green eyes of Harry Potter. He decided rather quickly to ignore the concern and approach Potter from a different angle. First, he wanted some of _his_ questions answered. He tentatively took a sip of his coffee, to find that it was actually quite pleasant. He took another sip, buying himself some time to gather his thoughts.

"Why won't you let me tell them?"

Harry smiled sadly, "How would you react if Ronald Weasley came up to you and told you Blaise Zabini was still alive?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Harry's voice.

"'But there's a catch' he would say." Harry said as he acted out his scenario. "'He's a ghost who isn't really dead, just wandering around in limbo until I can figure out a way to bring him back. Which, unfortunately, we're not sure is even possible in the first place.' He'd then smile and pat your hand empathetically and expect for you to understand."

"Alright already. I understand somewhat where you're coming from with this." Draco leaned in and raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "Zabini isn't really-?"

"No, of course not. He's probably trapped with Pansy and the rest in Voldemort's wand. Which is now being displayed in a museum, actually. Referring to said wand, of course." Harry smiled to himself at his wit and leaned backwards against his chair in satisfaction.

"Ha ha, Potter." He said sarcastically before sipping his coffee once more.

"Back to my previous question." Harry said, sitting up once more and staring out the window.

"Neither, Potter." Draco replied, to Harry's unasked question.

Amused, Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco. "Really? And, to what question was that the answer for? You'll have to elaborate for me Lord Malfoy."

Draco wrinkled his nose at the formality that reminded him so much of his father but mentally shrugged it off. He leaned forward and placed his coffee cup onto its saucer. "Why, that age-old question, of course."

Harry leaned forward in mock excitement, eyes gleaming with his desire to know the answer. He nodded, a gesture meant to get the Slytherin to finish his statement.

"Boxers or briefs?"

Harry's laugh made Draco's heart flutter with an emotion he'd been feeling but hadn't cared to identify. Draco smiled a small smile with satisfaction and blew at his coffee. He liked to see Potter happy and laughing versus his angsty personality during his lifetime. Draco's stomach flopped in his abdomen, why did he prefer the dead Potter to the one he'd actually spent time with? This couldn't count, could it? Not when Potter was dead and he was alive.

Draco's eyes, now downcast with his gloomy thoughts, scanned the table and to Harry's placemat. In front of him was a coffee cake, intact, next to a similarly untouched cup of coffee.

Harry had apparently picked up the change in emotions and tapped at his cake with a single digit. "I don't like to eat anymore. It hurts." Harry's eyes were void of emotion, almost indifferent.

Draco put down his cup and reached across the table to touch Harry's hand, a simple brush of fingers. He felt that if he could somehow have contact with the man across from him, he'd be able to convey to Harry that he still had a chance. Draco hadn't given up, but it seemed now more than ever that Harry had. "Tell me." Draco said simply.

Harry shifted his body but left his hand resting next to Draco's, not holding each other, but touching in a whisper of skin. "When I was with the Dursleys, I never got to eat what I wanted. What I ate, how much I ate and how often I ate was completely regulated by them. When I found out about the wizarding world and started going to Hogwarts, I was able to pick what I wanted, how much I wanted and no one could tell me different." Harry smiled an emotionless smile. "When we were still enemies," his eyes flashed with humor, "I used to wait until we made eye contact and then proceed in stuffing my face with whatever food I knew you didn't like. Just to get a reaction from you.

"Well, when I died, I couldn't eat of course. I couldn't stand the rotted food other ghosts insist on eating. If you could even call that eating, of course. I'd tried it but I couldn't taste a thing. It's like a curse or something. Even in dreams of other people, I can't eat. I can put it in my mouth, chew it up and swallow but in the end I'm swallowing nothing and it tastes like nothing. That coffee you were sipping," he pointed to Draco's cup. "Is exactly how I used to drink coffee, I tried to drink it once and I cried."

Harry stopped talking, and looked out the window at the swirls of white snow. His eyes were swimming now and Draco had no idea what to do to comfort the Gryffindor. "It's not the food, you know." Harry said finally.

"What?" Draco asked; his voice cracking.

"It's not about the food. It's about control. Or a loss of it really. Food was really all I had some sort of control over and now it's gone." He laughed mirthlessly, "I guess it's symbolism from the divine. _Harry Potter shall have no choice ever_; they must be laughing at me now. The great Harry Potter left to wander earth dreaming of pumpkin juice and chocolate. What a jo-"

Draco didn't know what had possessed him to do it but suddenly he found himself half lying over the table and pressing his mouth to Potter's. His lips were warm to the touch and he found himself pulling away quicker than his body had wanted him to. He stayed standing, his palms flat on the table between them, his leaning body still. He was so close to Potter and it scared him. Looking into Potter's startled green eyes he found himself leaning in again and this time Potter responded.

--

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry that it's taken me so long to update this fic! The truth is that I've had it mostly written forever and I just didn't get to give it the finishing touches that it needed. I understand if some of you have abandoned it (I would have done the same thing) but for those of you who have been kicking my butt I thank you to the bottom of my heart.

Review responses:

**fufu.a.k.a.speechless**: Thank you so much and I hope you got to stick around and read this latest chapter! Thanks for your support.

**Meilan**: I'm afraid I've kept you waiting once more. Sorry, it wasn't my intention to disappear for so long! Thanks for your compliments, I try to write so that there is enough detail so you feel what the character feels, you know? Thanks again!

**emeraud.silver**: Here it is! Thanks for reviewing!

**gbheart**: Yeah, I agree... Thanks once more for your lovely review. Hope you got to enjoy this installation!

**Passing Bells**: Thanks so much. I am trying to keep it paced a certain way. It's not going to be terribly long but I don't want it to feel rushed.

**Ana-chan86**: Thank you, and I definitely do have a different point of view when it comes to death, I think that it is very open to interpretation and I try to accurately describe feelings so I'm glad that I've moved you!

**Kittendragon**: Many thanks for keeping me on my toes, I didn't forget about your review although it's been a while. I'm glad that you took interest enough to review and make sure I was still alive hahaha. I hope you stuck around to read this!


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